


Peck Marks

by ermengarde



Category: Supernatural, weechesters - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Weechesters, bluebear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy's <em>not</em> a chicken, he's <em>not</em> (and Dean's not Florence Nightingale, either).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peck Marks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostandalone22](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lostandalone22).



> **Betas:** The lovely [](http://petit-rhino.livejournal.com/profile)[**petit_rhino**](http://petit-rhino.livejournal.com/) (for whom I hope this doesn't hit too close to home...) and the delightful [](http://the0neru.livejournal.com/profile)[**the0neru**](http://the0neru.livejournal.com/) (who I must meet for coffee soon!). Thank you guys ♥  
> **A/N:** Written for the lovely [](http://lostandalone22.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lostandalone22.livejournal.com/)**lostandalone22** for Sweetcharity, and she has been waiting far, far too long for it. Babe; I'm sorry and ILU ♥, I hope it's something like what you were looking for.

  
Sammy wakes up to find the blanket scratching at him; Dean's all rolled up in the sheet so the prickles are going right through Sammy's pajamas without the sheet to form a protective layer. He tries to wriggle under it again, but Dean just grumbles "stop making the bed wobble" and wraps himself tighter.

The room's cold, when he sticks his nose out, but the blanket's too annoying, and maybe he'll be okay if he curls up with Blue Bear, so he pushes the horrible scratchy _thing_ off, and cuddles Blue real tight.

Blue's all fluffy, though, since daddy made him go to the Laundromat, and his fur goes up Sammy's nose and makes it all uncomfy, and the _whole bed_ is scratching at him, so he tries wriggling again, rubbing the seam of his pajamas against the worst of the scratchy places.

"Sammy!" Dean sounds angry, and he's rolling over, so Sammy stops and pretends to be asleep. He can't get into trouble for sleep-wriggling, he doesn't think.

  
"Sammy?" Dean doesn't sound angry any more, and Sammy feels his hand on his forehead. "Come on Sammy, I know you're awake." Sammy's not convinced it isn't a trick, so he keeps his eyes closed.

"Sammy!" Dean sounds worried, and he's shaking Sammy's shoulder. "Wake up! Samm.."

Sammy opens his eyes and Dean is right up in his face, eyes wide.

"Sammy, I think you're sick, do you feel sick?"

Sammy shakes his head. Winchesters don't get sick.

"Okay, okay." Dean gets off the bed and pulls the sheet over him. "Just... just stay there, okay?"

Sammy nods and smiles at Dean, he's not sick, he's _not_, but Dean looks all tight in the face and that's not good.

The sheet is not as itchy as the blanket, but it's still scratchy and Sammy wriggles his back against a lump in the mattress and that feels real _nice_.

  
Dean comes back holding the great big book that daddy uses to tell that Dean's got spellingitis and that he can go to school after all.

He sits at the bottom of the bed and flicks through it until he gets to a page with all boxes on it. "Sammy, do you feel nauz-ee-ous?"

Sammy's not sure what that means, so he shakes his head.

Dean runs his finger over the page. "I think you've got a temperature, because your head was hot, okay..." Dean pulls down the sheet and shoves Sammy's pajama top up and Sammy tries very hard not to scream or make girl noises because there are _huge_ spots all over his belly. Dean's biting his lip and saying twenty-seven to himself over and over as he flips through the book.

"Dean, what is it Dean?" Sammy doesn't like having spots on his belly and they _itch_.

Dean holds the book out next to Sammy and compares a picture in it with Sammy's spots.

"You've got chicken pox." Dean's running his finger down the book and nodding.

"_Chicken_ Pox!?" Sammy hides his face into Blue. It's not _fair_, he _wants_ to go on the big slide, it's not _his_ fault daddy says he's too little... He's not a chicken, he's _not_.

"Yep. The book says you'll be real itchy but you're not allowed to scratch or you'll get a scar."

Sammy sniffs. Brave people have scars. "Daddy's got a scar, I could have...."

"Dad's got a _cool_ scar, from a being a _hero_, if you scratch you'll get a _lame_ scar, from being a _chicken_."

Sammy throws Blue at Dean's nasty laughing face. "I'm _not_ a chicken, I'm not." He swallows and screws up his nose. He's not going to cry, even if his head feels very full and hot and funny.

"Whoa, Sammy, chill! Chicken Pox is just what stupid people call it anyway, its real name is var-ee-sella zoster virus." Dean turns the page in the big book. "I need to keep you warm and hydrated and not scratching." Dean starts crawling around the bed, pulling the blanket over Sammy and Sammy's feeling too hot and stuffy already.

"I _am_ warm, Dean," Sammy pushes back at the blankets and wriggles in his pajamas again to make the spots stop driving him _crazy_.

Dean pulls the blankets up tight again and starts tucking them under the mattress. "You're warm from the _inside_, Sammy, I need to keep you warm from the _outside_. Try and go back to sleep."

Sammy shuts his eyes tight and starts counting sheep, just like daddy taught him. The chicken spots are too distracting though and he's not tired. He can feel Dean getting off the bed, and hear him walking quietly out of the room and as the door closes behind him Sammy lets out a little sigh that's not really a sob. Sammy wishes daddy was here, daddy's big and strong and brave and he can fix _anything_.

Sammy feels _nasty_ and not very brave at all.

Dean comes back in before the tears start coming out though, so it's okay, and he puts a cool, damp, cloth on Sammy's head and it feels real good.

"Sammy." Dean's whispering like Sammy's asleep, like Sammy's a good boy and he's done what he was told to.

Sammy's not a good boy though and his throat hurts. "Dean?"

Dean's smiling at him, though, so it's okay. "I brought you some water and some pain pills. They might help you sleep." Dean's biting his lip, like he's worried. Sammy's worried too, maybe he's really, really sick, maybe Dean's not told hi... "I need to go out Sammy; I need to get you some stuff." Dean waves his hands about "food and things to stop the itch."

"And popsicles." Daddy always gives him a red popsicle when his throat hurts and he thinks one would make him feel lots better now.

Dean grins at him and Sammy feels a whole lot happier. Dean wouldn't smile if he was _dying_. "And popsicles." Dean goes over and rummages in the dresser. He pulls out his superman socks, and that's good. It's good to be looked after by a superhero.

"Sammy, I need to put these over your hands." He's holding out the socks, and Sammy wants them, so bad, but socks go on _feet_. "Come on Sammy, I need to cover up your fingernails so you can't make a bad scar."

That kind of makes sense, and at least they're cool socks, so Sammy holds out his arms.

Sammy doesn't think he's slept, he's been planning the best fort ever, for when they go back to visit with Pastor Jim, and trying not to rub too hard at the spots, but the sun's moved a lot and when he finishes the glass of water Dean brought him, it's warm and it tastes stale.

He feels okay, he thinks, other than the spots, and his throat, but Dean told him to stay in bed and Sammy's pretty sure that came from the big book and will help him get better, and his legs don't really want to get up and play, anyway. Maybe he and Blue could have an adventure just in the bed.

Blue's still at the bottom of the bed from when he helped Sammy make Dean stop saying Sammy was a chicken, so Sammy kind of shuffles down the bed to get him. The bottom of the mattress is cool, and it feels good and not so itchy, so Sammy bunches up the sheet and blankets and makes a nest there. Blue and him can be eagles. Eagles are _cool_, there was a show about them, they have big talons and wings as wide as daddy is tall and the really huge ones can carry _sheep_, and Sammy's going to be big like daddy when he grows up, so he bets he'd be a big enough eagle to pick up _Dean_ and then they could go flying places instead of just sitting in the car all the time. That would be _even better_ than sitting shotgun, you'd get to see _everything_. Sammy grins and tells Blue all about it, and they both keep watch from their _eyrie_ \- because that's what eagle nests are called - for nasty chickens that they can be predators of.

All the watching eagles have to do is real tiring, and their eyrie is comfy, so Sammy tells Blue Bear to do the watching and rests his eyes for a little while. He thinks maybe he doesn't want to be an eagle when he grows up, because he'll have to do all the watching by himself and maybe he should be a spaceman instead, because you can see the whole of the Earth all at once and he's not scared of the dark and space is very dark indeed.

  
Dean's trying to drag him back up to the top of the bed and there's a smell like food, so Sammy figures he must've been all plumb tuckered out from all the watching and fallen asleep. Dean's not doing a very good job of picking him up, and Sammy's sure he's not meant to bend that way. "Dean, pumee _down_." He flails a little bit, because his pajama pants are all pulled up and they're cutting him in half.

Dean drops him and he almost bounces right off the bed.

"Lunchtime kiddo." Dean's got a tray on the top of the dresser and he's messing around with it. "Sit up at the top of the bed so I don't drop this all over you."

Sammy shoves all the pillows up to the top of the bed, like it's story time, and sits up. He's _so_ thirsty and a little hungry, too, and he wonders what Dean's made for lunch.

Dean sits down on the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of soup and a spoon. "Open up Sammy," Dean's holding a spoonful out, like Sammy needs to be fed like a baby. Sammy makes a cross face, but opens up, like he's told. "It's chicken soup, the lady in the store said it was good if you were sick."

"But I'm already all chicken-spotty, Dean." He doesn't want to turn any _more_ into a chicken.

Dean frowns. "I told you, that's just what stupid people call it, it's nothing to do with chickens, really. Eat your soup." He shoves the spoon towards Sammy's face

The soup's a little hot, but it tastes good and Sammy's hungrier than he thought he was and the warm feels nice going down his throat.

"If you manage this whole bowl then you can have your popsicle." Dean's shoveling soup at him _real_ fast and Sammy's slightly afraid he's going to drown, but a popsicle's special and Sammy's definitely going to have it.

  
Sammy feels full to bursting now he's finished the soup, and that's silly, because soup is just like a drink and shouldn't make you full and it's made him sleepy, too but Dean might eat his popsicle, or it might melt, or Dean's friend Lara might come over and take it, or... he's not going to go to sleep until he's eaten it.

It's real hard to keep his eyes open though.

Maybe he'll rest them while Dean takes the bowl away.

Someone's pulling at his pajamas and he bats them away, he's not getting a chicken scar. He's been a _good_ boy and he's not letting anyone mess that up.

"Hey Sammy, come on, you'll be more comfortable after a bath, I promise." Daddy's picking him up and his chest rumbles against Sammy's ear.

"Can I have my popsicle daddy? Dean said..."

Daddy's ruffling his hair. "Yes Sammy, we'll give you your bath, then you can have your popsicle and then it's straight back to bed, okay?"


End file.
